


What's Normal?

by hoonsols



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Ghost!Jihoon, M/M, Medium!Hansol, Self-Harm, Suicide, ghost au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-22
Updated: 2016-08-22
Packaged: 2018-08-10 09:05:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7838800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hoonsols/pseuds/hoonsols
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hansol finds another person living (or not) in his new apartment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What's Normal?

**Author's Note:**

> I got the idea of Medium!Hansol and Ghost!Jihoon a few weeks ago, so I decided to spill my Hoonsol feelings into a short fic. I hope you enjoy!

Hansol always hated moving into new apartments, and he didn’t like it any more this time around. His arms felt sore after moving boxes all day, and he still felt sticky with sweat. However, the feeling of independence he got from living alone was rewarding. Besides, with his experience with roommates, living with others didn’t seem like an option anymore.

His first roommate kicked him out after he was caught having full-blown conversations with himself in the dark each night, despite him being adamant that he wasn’t just talking to himself. In his roommate’s defense, he would’ve been concerned too if he hadn’t seen what he was seeing. His second roommate kicked him out for slamming cabinets all hours of the night, even though Hansol tried to argue that it wasn’t him. His third and final roommate, kicked him out for trying to tell the truth. That truth being that Hansol could see the woman who died in the house.

As a child, his mother grew worried about her son after hearing him say he liked the little boy who lived with them. When his mother questioned him about it, he told her all about the boy with the bloody head. He didn’t seem scared when describing the boy, but his mother could barely stomach even the thought of what her son was seeing. At first, she tried to convince herself that it was normal for a child to have an imaginary friend, but after years of him talking about his “dead friends”, she looked into a therapist who could help him.

After years of unsuccessful attempts of medication and counselors, he started to pretend that he was cured to make his mother stop worrying over him. Despite his convincing acting, he never stopped seeing the spirits. He never made friends at school, but he never felt unhappy, having his own special friends that only he could see. 

He sighed as he remembered it all, looking around the mostly empty apartment. He hadn’t gotten anything unpacked besides his sheets and his phone charger, instead he’d be spending the last few nights playing Candy Crush while curled up on his mattress. He had barely left bed, feeling too tired from work each night to even take care of important tasks. He felt his stomach rumble and he chewed on the inside of his cheek, trying to remember when he ate last.

After trying to count the hours since his last meal on his fingers, Hansol threw his phone aside and got up carefully, heading out into the dark hallway. He ran his fingers along the wall to guide him through the pitch black area, taking small steps to ensure he didn’t stub a toe on any of the boxes he had strewn about.

He stopped in his tracks the moment he got the fridge, having the unmistakable feeling that he was being watched. He turned and flicked on the lightswitch, speaking out into the empty room, “If you’re going to watch me, at least let me see you too.”

At the lack of response, he frowned a bit and shook his head, deciding the new atmosphere was probably just getting to him. He finally opened the fridge to pull out the ingredients for his sandwich. He couldn’t shake the idea that he was being stared at, but he tried to go about his business, grabbing the bread from the cabinet as well as a paper plate. As he assembled the sandwich, he felt the energy of somebody peering over his shoulder, making him stop and speak again, “It’s rude to not introduce yourself.”

As he turned around, he locked eyes with a blond boy who was much shorter than him. The boy looked like a deer in headlights, not fully understanding how he was being seen. He stepped to the side slightly and seemed surprised as Hansol’s eyes followed him. “You...Can you hear me too?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. 

Hansol nodded and laughed softly, starting to become a bit curious about the spirit with the dark undereye circles. The boy reached out and poked Hansol’s arm, as if trying to test whether or not they could interact. He pulled his hand back the moment he felt skin and shook his head. The blond murmured, “This is a dream, right?”

“Spirits don’t dream.”

“Don’t remind me,” he scoffed.

“What’s your name?” Hansol asked, turning back to his sandwich as he finished putting a slice of cheese on top and closing the piece of bread on the top, “And how old are you?”

The boy watched him curiously and replied in an almost-whisper, “Lee Jihoon...I'm almost...Or, I would have been almost 20.”

“I’m Choi Hansol, 18, nice to meet you,” he greeted quietly and held out a hand, smiling a bit when Jihoon reached out to shake it. The smile faded when he noticed scars littering Jihoon’s wrists, but he looked back up at the older boy’s face, unsuccessfully trying not to draw attention to it.

The ghost noticed where he was looking and jerked his hand away, pulling the sleeves down on the hoodie he had no choice but to wear. Hansol could feel the energy change in the room and he flinched when Jihoon swiped his arm across the counter, pushing everything off onto the floor. He tried to stay relaxed as Jihoon threw his tantrum, him knowing that it was out of his control. Angry energy wasn’t an easy thing to control when you were dead. Hansol spoke in a gentle tone, trying to calm him down, “If you don’t control that temper, you’re not going to be yourself for very much longer.”

“What the hell does that mean?!” Jihoon exploded, his hands shaking from sudden anger.

Hansol explained simply, “You’ll become a negative entity.”

Jihoon swallowed and took a few steps back before running out of the kitchen, not wanting to talk anymore. Hansol looked down at the sandwich that was thrown across the floor and completely forgot the idea of eating. He stepped over the mess and flipped the lightswitch off before he started to walk around the apartment, trying to find the ghost. He didn’t turn on any other lights, wanting to give Jihoon the comfort of the dark.

As he entered his bedroom, he saw a faint outline of Jihoon curled up in the corner, hiding his face and sobbing quietly. Hansol took soft steps towards him and slowly sat down next to him to apologize, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to stare at them.”

Jihoon shook his head and kept his face hidden, taking a deep breath and replying in a shaky voice, “Don’t apologize.”

Hansol could feel a thousand pounds of bricks on his chest, but he tried to keep it from affecting his mood. He asked somewhat-bluntly, “How did you die?”

“Take a guess,” the blond sniffled, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. He pulled himself together as best as he could and looked over at the younger boy.

Hansol shrugged and reached over to pat Jihoon’s back gently, trying to show him some sort of comfort. He stayed silent and waited patiently to be given a real answer, not wanting to pressure him into saying anything more. The boy might’ve been dead, but Hansol knew he had feelings just like any other person.

Jihoon took the hint and sighed, “Pills.”

“You took pills?”

He nodded and let out a pained laugh, “When you take a whole bottle, apparently it’s not good for you. It took three whole days before anybody even bothered to check up on me.”

Hansol took a deep breath as he felt the energy of the room change, his heart suddenly feeling heavy. Jihoon noticed his expression and he muttered, “It’s fine. Don’t feel sorry for me, I hate that.”

“Your emotions change how I feel,” Hansol said, “You’re literally a ball of energy, it’s difficult to ignore.”

Jihoon shut his eyes tightly and looked like he was focusing on something, Hansol noticing the pressure of the room disappearing ever so slightly. The blond’s eyes opened slowly and he asked, “Can you feel that?”

Hansol smiled softly and nodded his head, leaning back against the wall. He couldn’t describe the feeling, it panging his heart yet putting him at ease. “It’s bittersweet, but I can feel it. What are you thinking about?” 

Jihoon felt the corners of his lips tug up slightly, but he let it drop before Hansol had a chance to see. “You’re the first person who’s been able to see me. I’m not...screaming at myself anymore,” he explained in a whisper.

“Am I not the first person to live here since your death?” Hansol questioned, tilting his head to the side curiously.

The ghost shook his head and told him, “There were a few others. Did you know that people don’t like living with spirits?”

Hansol let out a quiet laugh and nodded, “I was aware of that, actually.”

“Are you the only one out there who can see me?”

“I don’t know, if you want me to be honest,” he looked down at the floor as he spoke, “But...I know people can feel you. Besides, you have the strength to let people know you’re there.”

“Yeah, because blindly knocking things off of their tables and walls is a great way to show people they’ve got a ghost living in their apartment,” Jihoon snorted, making Hansol grin.

He shrugged and stood up, holding a hand out for Jihoon. The ghost hesitantly took it and pulled himself to his feet, his grip tightening as he felt the warmth of a living person’s skin. Hansol smiled at the boy, but interrupted the sweet moment to tease, “Come on, you have to help me clean up the kitchen.”

Jihoon glared and smacked the taller boy on the shoulder as he was pulled out of the bedroom, but he couldn’t fight the smile this time. He didn’t let go of Hansol’s hand the entire way to the kitchen, finding a sense of comfort in it. For the first time since his death, he felt normal.


End file.
